


What's eating Jon Davis?

by Half_Fallen



Category: KoRn (Band), Limp Bizkit (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Trans Character, mtf Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Fallen/pseuds/Half_Fallen
Summary: Fred gets a call from Jon hours after they had been together on a after-party. He realizes nothing is as it seems... never has been.
Relationships: Jonathan Davis/Fred Durst
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	What's eating Jon Davis?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [public_enemy_sixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/public_enemy_sixx/gifts).



> TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains heavy body dysphoria that's related to a male not being comfortable in their own body (mtf trans), self hatred, eating disorders. Although the description on it is mild and most things are implied please stop reading if anything triggers you and read the tags. Much love!
> 
> This was something I came up with late at night after a rough time I've been having. It is also my very first Jon/Fred story I've ever written all on my own. I think we need more Jon/Fred stories, but here we are two people alone in a fandom that was created by my friend Finn.
> 
> This story is a gift to the brilliant Finn, my wonderful friend who is so absolutely talented in so many ways and never ceases to be an inspiration to me. Thank you, Finn.

“What have you done to yourself?” There is pain behind Fred’s voice that Jonathan cannot feel in the intoxicated state that he is. Fred tries not to flinch at the way his arms wrap around the guy’s thin torso, almost wrapping twice over itself and Jonathan basks in his touch, brittle arms coming to wrap around his neck. Fred lifts him up with no issue from the bathroom floor and into his bed, a million and one things racing through his head. He didn’t see any pills around, only alcohol and empty cans of diet coke… fucking diet coke. He should have seen it all coming way before this, way before the tour, yet he was so blind.

He turns on the coffee machine and turns back to the crime scene. Everything is pristine, pristine as always and Fred wants to gauge his own eyes out. The scent of female perfume lays heavy in the air hiding the real issue, a toothbrush being the only thing out of place that’s visible there. No pills on sight… but that makes him more concerned somehow. He can work with pills, he has worked with pills before, but this is all new and scary to him.

Setting a mug of coffee by Jonathan’s nightstand he turns to look at the boy who is still awake and on top of the covers shivering visibly as his arms try to cover his torso in vain.

“It hurts,” His voice is brittle, ruined, and Fred is not sure if the younger is talking about his stomach or the nicks over it from shaving. He doesn’t know if they are accidental or on purpose and Fred caresses his face gently with a calloused hand.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. He should have suspected something by the way Jonathan had practically wolfed on the food especially tonight, drinking a bit more than usual, joking around a bit more than usual.

“I’ll never be it, Fred.” He croaks, and Fred can feel the second wave coming.

“Get up and drink your coffee, Jon.” It sounds more like a pleading than an order and Fred cannot do this, especially not tonight. Jon raises himself on the bed, thin legs in front of his shaved chest and arms wrapping loosely around them in a way to keep warm. Fred wraps a blanket around him, heart heavy and mind empty as he hands the younger the cup of coffee.

“I’ll never be it, Fred.” Jonathan repeats for the second time tonight and Fred flinches this time as his eyes drop to the duvet hugging his freezing body.

“You’re it for me, Jon.” He says, and he fucking means it. Maybe Jonathan needs to let it all out, come clean once and for all even though Fred has a good idea where this is going, even though Fred didn’t have the heart to lift the toilet seat earlier.

“No.” The younger responds and it comes out croaked and wrecked, word so big in the tiny room. “I don’t have what they have. Look at me Fred!” And Fred does, as he always has, as he always truly has.

“I’m not it. No matter how much I mutilate myself for a fucking waistline, no matter how much weight I drop, no matter how long I try to grow my hair. I’m disgusting Fred!” He spats and Fred flinches, closing his eyes at the sight. Somehow he has always known. “I’m the primadonna of clowns, baby, look at me!” His arms wrap tighter around his legs, forehead resting on his knees and he sobs. It’s broken and loud in a way that makes Fred’s heart break. His blunt nails scratch at his own shins violently and Fred remains frozen in spot looking at it all.

“I’ve seen them around you, Fred.” He says between sobs. “I’ve seen them alright. I’ve seen their soft features and perfect skin and big fucking boobs and tiny waists and I will never be it Fred.” He hugs his legs tighter, rocking back and forth in the drunk induced daze that he is and Fred cannot take it anymore. He leans forward, gathering his arms the bundle of bones that Jonathan has become and keeping him tight to his chest. The boy wraps his arms around him feverishly, much like he did mere minutes ago.

“You’re it for me, Jon.” He repeats again and Fred knows. Fred fucking knows this is a cry for help, Jonathan’s last resort.

“I’m a good for nothing freak, Fred. I’m some deformed in between, not quite anything. I’m nothing.” The tone in his voice is much the same bitter as when he called him on the phone, the only thing contradicting it being the sweet scent of perfume that lingers in his skin.

And Fred knows that the guy won’t mention this once he is sober, bony hands will reach for another diet coke and he will laugh, like he has always has done until today. But Fred holds him regardless, counting the minutes until sunlight, until it all can feel less raw, as close to normal again. He kisses the younger’s forehead again in an attempt to make the cries stop.

“You’re it to me, Jon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this piece. Would love to hear what you think, so if you feel like it leave a comment down below. Much love!


End file.
